Monday, July 25, 2016

There are Days


There are days when I feel filled with hope and faith. There are days when I feel that I have been granted more grace than I ever deserve. However, I am still broken most days. There is often a lot of guilt I carry with me. I have guilt for not being the best mother that I can be. I have guilt that I am not giving the best care my mother could be getting. I feel guilt that although I share my demons with my husband, I find myself not sharing enough.
There are days when I am making up dinner plates for two little ones and I am about to make my own plate when I realize that I am not done (thankfully the older two can make up their own dinner plates). I have another person that I have to tend to, and I am the best person for the job when it comes to my mother (do not get me wrong, I love my mother). When I am just about done getting the younger two children ready for bed, I remember that I have to get my mother into the shower. I have to remind her not to change her clothes again because this makes more laundry for me, but I know that I will probably have to tell her at least once more before the day is done. There are days when my mother’s silence is a concern for me and I wonder, is she declining in her brain? Should I be prepared to give more of myself? I have a slight reprieve in that my mother lights up when she is around my husband. Furthermore, I have my husband beside me, offering as much of his self as he can through these difficult times.
Yet still, I am often angry. I have my own medical problems that I would love to have taken care of, but I put them off because people need me. The thought of my husband having to care for me in my recovery causes me to guilty. This makes so mad. The fact that my mother has FTD makes me angry. The idea that someone ran a stop sign less than a year ago, altering my life, makes me angry. The idea that I have to prolong my schooling because my caregiver role takes over drives me nuts.
I know I should pray, and I do.
I know that things will get better, but I am waiting.
There are so many things that I know, but this storm is getting me very wet. The lightening seems to strike me again and again, and the thunder is deafening. My knowledge of counseling practices, prayer, and scripture does not keep me from feeling frustrated most days. I am broken and I am sharing this brokenness. I am struggling with trying to understand what God wants and expects from me. I am talented, but confused. I still urge others to be broken. I hate feeling my pain, but the numb feeling in my body wasn’t healthy either.

Small graces: Rebekka’s cast is off in 4 weeks (in the words of an elementary schools student…Spica casts suck!). I am enjoying writing the group proposal I have due is a few weeks. I have two older children who have the potential to be helpful (even if they do not always seem helpful). I have a great husband who tries his best to be available for me (even if he is a work in progress). I have wonderful friends and family who understand that even if I do not see them (at all sometimes) they are near and dear to me.  

Torn

A heart-torn
Batter and bruised-worn
A mouth- empty
Speech is gone
What is this in my hands?
Air, space, hands folded in grace?
There shape is familiar, I know it is important.
I pray, I pray, I pray, I pray
My speech.
My speech.
What is this in my hands?
Tears
Fears
Hope?
I cry, I cry, I cry, I cry
I plead
What is this in my hands?

A heart-torn

Monday, July 18, 2016

I Urge You to Be Broken

Be Broken. So this may make the least amount of sense. This was something that I hadn’t thought much of until the past week while attending one of my graduate classes. I sincerely open up to you and urge you to be broken.  What does this mean? What am I really asking of you? All of us are broken individuals whether it is a constant battle with depression and anxiety, reeling and dealing with the reality of a broken marriage, fighting to understand our broken heart, or trying to feel whole after abuse. You are beautiful and a priceless piece of work. I want you to know that there is something beautiful in your suffering, and that beauty may go unnoticed if you do not take time to feel and to deal.
“It hurts” you say.
“I know” I say to you with compassion as I truly do understand what I am asking of you.
Some of us just cannot take one more thing going wrong in our life or stand the heaviness in our chest as we think about what we have lost or will be loosing. There is no fun, feeling sadness. Dealing with anxiety, depression or any other unnamed disorder may leave us feeling weak or foolish. Often times we feel ashamed and our brokenness again goes by the wayside.  
Suffering= meaning

No, I did not come up with this on my own; it was something that I had to learn and still find myself wrestling with. I have felt filled with despair, wishing, “if only I could just sit here and cry”. My lack of understanding controls me on more days than I can count. Some of us feel we are not broken enough, some feel their brokenness too much as find ways to suppress it, some are in brokenness denial, and some feel ashamed by their brokenness. But I say again that we are all broken just as we are all sinners. We all fall short of the glory of God. If you need help to get through your pain, please taken that help. I urge you too feel what you need to feel in order to make it to the other side. I urge you to reach out for this does not make you foolish, you are strong. I understand it is difficult. I understand that this may be the opposing thing to do in your culture. I understand that I am asking you to possibly open wounds that you thought were healed and have even acquired new skin. I am by no means an expert, but I am your equal with my own trials, weakness, and doubts. I am coming beside you because if you have never heard that it is okay. It is okay that you are not perfect. Even the most honorable of individuals can struggle. It is okay that you are broken and I extend you grace just as grace has been extended to me. 

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Hooray for the Wild Child


Let me begin by saying, hokey Pete, I am exhausted.  Being the mother of 4 children is definitely no walk in the park, but it is surely worth it. I suppose I should say that from the start before I get into the hectic happenings that make up my life on a daily basis. Even as I write this post now, I have a three year old beauty rummaging through my make-up bag, happily applying eye shadow to my face and then requesting I do the same to hers. Sigh…that is our 3 year old little lady; she is a ball of energy who pretty much rebuffs any idea of nap time or sitting down at the table to eat.  

In deep breath…out deep sigh.

When it comes to our little Rekker, as we have nicknamed her, my husband and I are pretty much laughing and pulling out our hair at the same time. Our first two children were very laid back, our 4th child is even a laid back little girl who goes with the flow, but Rekker is a power all on her own. My pregnancy with little Miss Rekker was a tough one; it was one of those pregnancy that absolutely made me never want to be pregnant again. I had pre-eclampsia and swelled up like a balloon and to make matters worse, I had to be induced (I never had to be induced; my children would slid out in mere hours). She was a tiny (4 lbs 8 oz) little bundle of joy who had colic and gerd (I mean she had spit up that would make an exorcists run for cover).  Our wild child. If you take what she has, she’ll scream. If you think you’re going to get her to move where she doesn’t want to, she’ll scream. However, on the flip side, Rekker was the youngest potty trained child, and is already well versed in making her own chocolate milk (cup, syrup, and a gallon of milk). As much as she absolutely drives us nuts, she is a beauty. She is smart and funny. She helps her daddy outside with the garden and chickens and is ready to help with nearly every little thing that she can. Sure, sometimes the best help she could provide would be to not help at all, but Rekker has a kind heart. She is our outside little girl who would rather stay outside barefoot, chasing chickens and digging in the dirt than be inside eating ice cream. Rekker is the little girl who rushes into the house to make sure her mama is okay after hearing the sirens of an ambulance zoom down the road because she is smart enough to know what they mean.  

What I have learned from our little Rekker is that parents can be the greatest parents EVER! I mean they can discipline when they should and hug when they should. Parents can do right by all of their children, but there can still be that one child who "terrors" through the house. There can still be a child who screams and pouts when they do not get their way in the store, but that doesn’t mean the parents are not good parents. Out little Rekker wins over nearly every heart that she encounters, but never fails to exhaust our ears with her screeches or barrage of questions (which she often repeats over and over and over).

Right now, I am getting ready to kiss the head of our little Rekker who “bonked her head”. The little girl who makes me more exhausted than the other 3 children in our house combined just wrapped her arms around my neck with love, and gave me a kiss.


God has a sense of humor with the “wild” child.